lettuce garden
by So Guhn
Summary: put into motion, a lapse within my affection. link x zelda.


disclaimer: zelda (c) nintendo

_lettuce garden _**; PG13 - angst/romance - Link x Zelda**

Between sunset and horizon, people have been blinded.

There is a dirt path, stretching, far, far into that horizon, here in the quiet isolation of the outskirts to a long retentively betrayed capital. Hooves, _clop clop _against the earth, dust rising in turn with each heavy step, his hand stays upon Epona's reigns, rather not mounting, rather the slow of their steps as the array of blue before them dips into orange and tones of crimson, indigo. They pass through a vast garden, neat green rows filed one after the other in prideful order, symmetric, the eyes shall not be deceived here.

From here the world would be found.

She walks, just as slow, step by step, in turn a ways behind him, five steps, ten steps, an entire mile that dares breaches the edges of infinity. She is the only flower within the field of growing, lettuce, green pearly buds, it needed to rain.

And from her, a shadow trails, not far, but far enough, protection always at her beck, her call, though she hides under a cloak of worn brown cotton he knows the silk that is to be held from the insides, her gloves, fingers peeking from this separate existence, entity.

Link keeps walking.

And she, she halts.

"Won't you at least bid me good bye?"

Without further reflection, so does he. And motionless, does he take her words, evaporated breath, should earthly twilight fall before he lost sight of the pearly spires of her kingdom- his steps do not resume when hers do, swallowing, five, ten, a mile.

If it is her presence that stills him- she does not acknowledge its power, for she is aware, for them the double edged sword that creeps in place and settles, willing. The cloak does not fall to entirely cover the last edges of her dress, dust coats it. A ladybug skims the surface of green leaves, a deeper shade of red as night approaches.

He turns his head, looking from the side, one eye, both eyes, a single glance upon the regal posture in place, lady's hands folded before her departing to ravish the emptiness of the air. He sees her sturdy gaze falter and turn away, fluttering back and forth, silently, casually indecisive.

"I was unsure-"

Her gaze, this gaze, turning, uplifted, no one is to be deceived, soaking in his words (is it raining?). A trademark lock of ornamentally bound hair slips past the clutch of her hastily supplied guise. Finishing, "-if it would have been appropriate for me to do so, princess."

Twilight falls and he- interruption. Her words are gathered, and carefully used, but quivering is a silver lining. Precise target, precise slight of- when he fully turns around, hand falling from the reigns the other already reaching for her- hands cupping shoulder, the side of the face, scarcely over the neck, more the rough fabric of worn gauntlet rests against the back of her neck, though the barest tips of fingers touch into her scalp, the start/end of her hair, her hood falling back as he mumbles into the corner of her lips-

"But if you tell me you want me to."

Warmth, in this cool, chilled, darkened lettuce garden- (now) how he kisses her.

(I won't refuse you.)

Like failing sight, they succumb to the dark the feel of lips take. Her hands find him, grip him, into the green fabric, upon the buckle of the sheath to a sword older than they, meant for time. Meant to last forever. Probably he mumbles her name, but she cannot answer, already parting, the gentle caress at her cheek falling away.

She sees to him, lets his hand lapse over hers and bring them away from him, every inching motion more painful to the next, just perhaps, perhaps in whatever cavity of the body that finds itself empty, perhaps as she, he is screaming too.

She sees to him, watches him, and follows (shadows) as he mounts his horse, the edging lines of his body stretching, his hands leave hers, leaves, and they are empty to grasp the air once more.

(Her hands.) This time she hears-

"Good bye, Princess Zelda."

(-what she wants…)

A kick- into a brisk step, gallop, and running, just running. She just wants to run, call after, call and yell and scream, but her composure keeps intact until his form is swallowed by the world. And then she's yelling his name.

Inside the cool of the lettuce garden.


End file.
